Of Friends and Lovers
by pbows
Summary: The line between love and country has always been established by royals. Kings and Queens are not offered the luxury of love, that the Dauphin know so well. The need to put his country first has always cost Francis something gold can not buy. But will he let his country tore his heart apart?


**Disclaimer: Definitely do NOT own Reign. I also do NOT know the history behind reign. This is a fan fiction. I absolutely LOVE Reign's Mary and I ship Frary. But this will be a Francis/OC story at the moment. This is through my OC's POV so Mary's characterization is not developed yet. Thanks for reading!**

The palace of Valois was in high preparation for the young Queen Mary of Scots' arrival. The royal family, although busy with their eldest daughter's wedding, squeezed additional preparation for the young Queen. The most absurd thing is that everything is merely a formality, a means to show face to their Scottish alliance.

The King, himself, is busy getting measured by tailors for his daughter's wedding while the Queen angrily laments Mary's arrival. Even the Dauphin, Francis, is unseen.

"Sebastian!" I called to one of my dearest friend here at the court.

Sebastian de Poitiers was patiently waiting amidst the grand staircase leading to the doors of the castle. Knowing he isn't exactly welcome by most noblemen that are present today, he chose to watch from the distance.

He looked up from his thoughts and gave me a warm smile, "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to welcome the Queen of Scots like the rest of the ladies?"

"She isn't like the rest of the ladies, Bash." Francis' voice erupted from thin air. As usual, Francis is late and unprepared. I rushed to fix his clothing as best as we both could, "Besides, I can't meet the new queen all by myself."

I looked at him surprisingly, "What are you saying, Francis?"

He offered his arm and nudged his head for his half-brother to follow, "If she is to be my wife, she must make herself acquainted with you."

The sound of the horns rang and we hurried to get ourselves situated. Outside the palace, a throne of lords and ladies made themselves visible with the biggest pearls and the curliest of hairs to welcome the foreign queen. The royal family, along Diane de Poitiers, Bash's mother and the King's mistress were all standing proudly in the middle. Bash took his place besides his mother, while Francis continued to drag me along. As usual, stares and hushed whispers followed us. But this time, it wasn't just the French court I have to deal with.

Francis, Bash and I have been friends for a decade. We've endured the silliest and the toughest of times. Even through Bash's rough adulthood, dealing with his statue of a bastard, we've gone through it. Even with Francis' throne of women, we've tackled it. Even before, being teased as if we're more than friends, I've not thought more. But the French court is used to our antics by now, our love for each other whether it is merely platonic or more; they're used to it by now.

But not his future queen.

I can see the surprise and the pain cast on Mary – no, Queen Mary's face. Even her ladies are whispering hurriedly. They look at me as a threat.

I looked behind me, for Bash, for support and he gave me a small smile. He is the only one who understands. Queen Catherine de Medici looked smug nonetheless and I wonder why.

We've reached the Scots and I immediately retracted my hand from Francis' and curtsied low for the Queen. She nodded and turned her attention to Francis immediately.

"Welcome to France, Queen Mary." Francis greeted with a smile.

She returned the favor, "Please call me Mary."

He nodded and I've felt burning fire sensation in my belly. My corset felt too tight, the air felt too humid. I felt Francis' hand on my back, "You've brought your ladies to meet me, I thought I should do the same. May I introduce my dearest friend and most trusted companion, Lady Felicity LeBlanc of Devon."

Queen Mary smiled formally and turned wryly to me. "I hope to be the same way to you, Lady Felicity."

I had no ill conception with the Queen, nor do I wish to give her any concern. But I am a woman with good instinct and the fake smiles and insincerity tone simply do not sit well with me. I simply replied, "Friendship takes time to build, Your Majesty. For now, I am but a Lady in French court."

"A friend, then." She concluded.

"A friend of France." I argued.

Francis cleared his throat, "Fee is very involved in matters of the state, Your Majesty."

Mary looked displeased, looking at both of us, "So Lady Felicity, you understand that the alliance between France and Scotland is solidified and strong."

What meant as a simple statement clearly was a full blown jealousy outrage from the Queen, herself. I smiled as Francis led us to meet the rest of the court, inside. "Yes, Majesty, _after_ your marriage with the Dauphin then we can state that more…distinctly."

Her ladies were mum behind her, letting their Queen take a foothold in foreign soil. "Do we not have your blessing, Lady Felicity?"

I looked at Francis, my lips pursed in annoyance, "Queen Mary, my blessing in royal weddings is not necessary. The King and Queen decides what is right for the future King of France."

"But as Francis' advisor…"

"I am _not_ his advisor, Your Majesty. I am merely a friend." I restated.

Francis turned to Mary, "When the King deems it fit for us to wed, we will, Your Majesty."

Mary nodded, content with Francis' words. As we near the entrance of the grand hall, my head started to get heavy. Before the knights opened the doors, I turned to them and curtsied, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Queen Mary. But I'm afraid I'm feeling a bit under the weather."

The Queen smiled and nodded. Francis took my hand, bringing his to my forehead, "Are you ill, Fee?"

"Not to worry, Francis. I'll be better by tomorrow." I answered, slowly taking his hands off of me as respect for his jealous looking future Queen.

He looked unconvinced, "I'll come by to check you before the sun falls."

Before today, I would've felt nothing but excitement. Today, however, with Queen Mary's arrival, all I feel is dread.

I smiled weakly, "I'll ask a servant to bring me some food. I'll be fine. Tomorrow you ride with Bash before the sun rise, rest well tonight."

I turned away and stalked for my bedchambers. Truly, I did not want to be there. I want some air, some freedom from this choking feelings rumbling in my chest. I do not know what it is, but the Queen of Scots' presence does not make me happy or comfortable. I started to run with no destination in mind. I trust my feet to whisk me away.

I ended up in the weapons chamber. Before my parents passed away, my father had tediously taught me about weaponry. I've been taught how to fight because my mother was sickly and I had no brothers. I was the only girl and it was prophesied that I would be left alone.

The feeling of newly smoothed blade comforted me. It was something I was accustomed to, something I grew with. I excitedly took off my dress, leaving me in corset and trousers. As I honed my skills in French court and with the King's approval, a set of clothes was placed in a small box in the armory for my use whenever I please.

It wasn't long in my training when Bash popped his head in, a knowing look in his eyes, "When I found your bedchambers empty, I knew I'd find you here."

I panted, stopping for him, "Want a sword?"

He grinned, the stress of appearing to be a royal deep within his face. I tossed him one of the swords and he caught it with such finesse that I admire in a man. Francis, with his uncanning gentleman manners has never been as great in sword fighting as Bash. Francis is not granted the freedom as Bash and he's always been green with jealousy because of it.

"My little brother is worried about you. He says you feel ill, yet you're as healthy as my horse!" Bash joked, attacking me from behind.

"Where are your manners, Sebastian? Were you not taught never to attack when your opponent isn't ready?"

He laughed, "No, those rules only apply to pretty princes who never has to yield a sword."

It was a cruel thing to say, knowing full well how that describes our dear friend. We dueled in silence, nothing but groaning and panting. It's the kind of silence I crave.

I've been working on my footwork; I am a petite girl with nothing but knowledge of my sword and agility to protect me. Every other opponent would have Bash's strength and fierceness.

The joyous laughter fell deaf in our ears as the clashing of the swords, the thrust of our fights inhibited our senses. It wasn't until I've had Bash kneeling in front of me with the blade of my sword threating to pierce his neck that we hear clapping and the King's booming praise, "Only the best for France!"

King Henry, the scots and Francis now occupied the sword room; I tried not to feel remorseful as Francis' eyes narrowed on my lie. Bash nodded at me, understanding what is happening and proceeded to trip me down.

The fight is back on; this was our silent plead for our audience to leave.

Seeing the Queen of Scots right beside Francis, enjoying the French court like she should, like she always would, encouraged this deep sense of anger and rebellion on me. All I wanted to do was clash on Bash's sword and release my anger with every blow, every hit and every clang.

It was the hardest I've ever fought and it was the hardest Bash had ever had to defend himself. The fight lasted for another half an hour, the royals have left and my muscles were sore. It took me utmost energy to reach my chambers. There is nothing more I want than a nice long and relaxing bath. But knowing full well that I've asked my ladies to take a break today to enjoy the festivities, I couldn't help but groan.

I cursed whoever built this palace, with its winding staircase. Must they put the ladies on the highest corridors? Is it not enough we must wear shoes with heels and hold ourselves upright at every moment of our waking lives? These feministic and simply complaining thoughts invaded my brain as I open the door to my bedchambers.

It isn't much – mostly decorated by the Queen, it's got all the necessities a proper lady must have. Do I use it all? Not at all.

All I really want is a comfortable bed to sleep in. But tonight, I've got that and a dauphin sitting comfortably on my bed, reading one of my books on the famous French traveller, Andre Thevet.

"You sparred well tonight." He commented, eyes focused on the book. I hear a hint of anger on his voice, but I decide to act normally.

I hanged my robe, shrugging, "Bash is a strong opponent."

He looked up from the book and noticed my tiredness. His face softened as he approached me. Helping me unbutton my dress down to my underdress, he said, "I've prepared a bath for you. I'll expect you before sun rise tomorrow."

He left swiftly, saying everything he's needed. I couldn't help but form a small smile at his kind gesture. I submerged myself in the bath and noticed a blooming flower with a side of French macaron.

Francis always knows.

**End note: Thank you again for reading. Please let me know how this is going! I'm pretty excited with this but I also haven't seen much Francis/OC stories here :( I'm going to try to incorporate at least one scene from the actual reign to most of my chapters! This one was Mary's royal greeting. I'm really good with constructive criticism, as I write to satisfy my wandering imagination and try to educate myself with creating and developing stories - so please don't bring your ship wars, it's rather immature (: **


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